The Last Journal of the Awesome Me
by RinaCath
Summary: "I'll say this much - you never really know how much you've changed until it's too late." Prussia tells his side of the story, from the Treaty of Versailles to the fall of the Berlin Wall. Historically Accurate.


**This is **_**supposed**_** to be historically accurate, but I am very fond of artistic license, and, as pointed out to me before, my history tends to be warped/incomplete/wrong. I tried to research this project to my best abilities, but a successful historian I am not. If you notice anything that is wrong or can provide more information where I've skimped/skimmed, please feel free to review or pm me. I'm not going to get insulted, I know I fail at this. It was worth a try. Some things I just bs-ed my way through.**

**(Although, if you could do it in a way that doesn't directly insult me, that would be awesome too.)**

**In my defense, we never even kind of learned about Prussia in any history class I've ever taken. This is entirely researched in my free time. So don't hate me. Hate the American educational system.**

**Most of the (flawed) information is in the footnotes. Completely optional reading, but if you want to consult them a lot it might be easier to have a separate window open to the bottom of this page so you don't have to scroll every few minutes. Because there's a lot of them. Any time you see a number in parenthesis like this: (1), it's a footnote, so check the bottom of the page.**

**Now, then…**

* * *

When West sent word to me to talk to him the only thing I was thinking was who exactly he thought he was to be calling _me_ to _his_ office.

This, however, was something I knew I'd have to start living with. It wasn't a kingdom that pushed the office door open, but a state. A free state, it was true, but still, West had made his presence as more than a territory of mine known. Despite my smarting pride, I was willing to play along for now. (1)

"Sit down, Prussia." he said, not looking up.

"Why?"

"Just sit."

I dropped into the chair across from his desk, crossing my arms at him. Still, I'd let him do it for now. Poor bastard was probably just licking his wounds. It sucked to lose. He looked absolutely exhausted. As I watched he set down his pen and buried his face in his hands, fingers pulling his neatly combed hair into momentary disarray. I fought the desire to laugh.

He sighed heavily and looked up, mouth hidden behind his interlocked fingers.

"The Allies finished their meeting at Versailles yesterday."(2)

"About time. So what're the terms of your surrender?" I asked, kicking my feet up on his desk and pushing my chair back.

"132 billion marks" he said emotionlessly. I lost my balance and crashed to the floor. (3)

"Are you serious?" I demanded. "Wha… are they even allowed to do that?"

"Apparently."

"How are you going to pay for that?" I asked, picking myself off the floor.

"I have no idea."

There was a moment as I tried to understand. 132 billion marks was, well… that was a lot of money. I'd never heard of a demand like that.

"That's not..all."

I picked up the chair. "What do you mean 'that's not all'? They're asking for more than 132 billion marks?"

He pushed the papers he had been looking at towards me. "You are, as of the Treaty of Versailles, ceded to Poland." (5)

I sat down again.

"What?"

"Half of you." He corrected. "Officially, West Prussia is now Polish territory. I still own East Prussia."

"How's that supposed to work?" I asked, still trying to figure everything out. I'd been _ceded_? I wasn't even my own country anymore and suddenly I was a bargaining chip to make sure Germany had learned his lesson?

To _Poland_?

"Obviously they sided in favor of Poland." West said bitterly. "You are his to do with what he wants."

"Can't you do anything?" I demanded.

"Obviously not. Do you have any idea what else they're shoving at me? I'm to take full responsibility of the war. Do you know how hard it was to convince them to let me stay a country at all?" he said furiously.

"At least you have that!" I snapped back. "If you hadn't decided to rebel in the middle of this I might have been able to help now. But I'm just a token in the grand scheme of things, aren't I?"

"It was a change that needed to happen, for the good of everyone. If you hadn't been so adamant about it maybe-"

"That's bullshit! What's wrong with the way I was doing things?" I shouted at him, standing up again, planting my hands on his desk, shoving my face inches from his.

"It was utter crap, you know that just as well as I do." he scowled at me. "But, in hindsight, maybe something that could have waited." (6)

His change in tone left me out of steam.

"I don't want to go." I said, crumpling the paper in my hand.

"We don't have a choice, do we?" Germany said quietly, smoothing it out again. "They won this war and I lost. There's nothing I can do."

For the third time, I dropped into the chair across from his desk.

"I'm…sorry, Prussia. This isn't your fault, you shouldn't be punished." he said, looking down at his papers again. "I'll find a way to get you back from him, I swear I will."

I grinned at him, masking, as always, whatever it was I was actually feeling. What that was, I wasn't sure yet.

"I know you will."

* * *

I shivered in the morning air, stomping my feet slightly to keep warm. The Polish border ran along the horizon, a place I'd have to return at the end of the day. But, as I'd pointed out, this half of me still belonged to Germany, so I had every right to see him. This was still my land.

I grinned at the familiar sight of neatly combed blond hair. A brief, manly hug did very little for my frozen arms but it warmed my heart to see him so healthy. He was recovering, finally, from the war. He still looked exhausted and underfed, but it was such an improvement I couldn't help but be happy. We walked in silence for a while, mostly just trying to keep from freezing. It was a harsh winter this year.

"It's colder here."

"How's it back home?" I asked.

"Better. Things aren't the way they were, I don't think they'll ever be, but it's not as bad as it was."

"You're being a good little nation though, right?" I laughed, only half joking. I knew if he raised any suspicions the Allies would be on him in an instant.

"Of course, Prussia." he assured me. "I'd never dream of risking anything like that again."

"Good, because, you know, I'm still kind of screwed here."

"I'm working on that too." he said quietly.

Far too soon, the sun was going down.

"I should go." I said miserably.

"Keep your spirits up, Prussia, it shouldn't be long now." he promised.

I nodded. After a moment of hesitation, he pressed something into my hands.

"Just to keep you sane." he said. Then he was gone and Poland was calling me in that stupid voice of his.

"What's that?" he asked, looking curiously at the book in my hands through his violently pink scarf.

"A gift from West." I said, pressing it defensively to my chest, suddenly afraid he would take it.

He shrugged. "Whatever."

I turned the first few pages behind his back, curious. It seemed a bit like drabble but if West thought it was good I might as well give it a chance. The cover fell back and the letters glinted dully on the plain cover.

_Mein Kampf_

* * *

"West, what the hell are you doing?"

He only grinned. No doubt about it, he was better still. But he was different.

"Just making friends, Prussia, don't worry about it." he told me, referring to his recent alliances with Italy and Japan.

"Yah, but, Italy? Isn't he, I don't know, kind of a wuss?" I pressed. "Is he even worth getting in trouble with France or England about?"

"He's got good blood in him." West shrugged. "He wants to see the Roman Empire rise again."(7)

"And what's this about Austria? You've _annexed_ him? What the hell for?"

"It was a mutual agreement." he said. "We both decided that there wasn't enough difference between us to continue to exist as separate countries."

"West that's bullshit." I told him. "I know for a fact you and him have nothing in common. Fuck Austria. You're going to bring the Allies over your head again."

"Did you read that book I gave you?" he asked, ignoring my warning.

"Yah I read it." I said, feeling more and more annoyed. "Can't say I agree with some of it but it was decent stuff, I guess."

"That's good. The author is my new Chancellor."(8)

I paused. "What the hell for? He's not even German, he's-"

"Austrian. Which is now just as good as German." He said, unfazed. "He's got some ideas I'm interested in putting into practice."

"West, what're you thinking?" I asked, concerned.

"Don't worry about it."

"If you haven't figured it out by now, there's no way they're going to let you get away with this. The world is just waiting for you to mess up again." I warned him, concerned he was going to do something stupid.

"Don't worry about it." he repeated. He looked out over what little of my land he still owned. It was September, fall was just starting.

That night, as I mulled over exactly what it was that had bothered me so much about our conversation, I thought about what West had been planning these last few months.

It occurred to me that he'd changed. He wasn't the little boy I'd kept under my wing for so long, and he wasn't the broken scrap of a country left from the Allies' abuse of power.

He was, for the first time, utterly his own country. He was Germany. And I wasn't really sure what that meant anymore.

* * *

"West!"

I could do nothing but throw my arms around him. To hell with manly hugs, I was _back_. I didn't have to look at Poland's stupid face anymore. I was _back_.

"I told you I'd get you back." he chuckled.

"I will never doubt you again." I mumbled, face still pressed against his jacket. When had he gotten so much taller than me?

But this was a bittersweet reunion. He'd broken his Treaty. There was no doubt about it, an invasion of Poland was an act of war. The Allies would be on us again, and soon.(9)

But for now… I was willing to be happy.

I finally let go and composed myself again. There was no need to face Germany's allies without my dignity.

Italy was a jumpy little country that seemed constantly in a state of euphoria. In the ninety seconds it took Germany to introduce him his face had gone from uncertainty to terror to glee. He shook my hand with both of his, announcing that 'a friend of Germany's is a friend of mine'. It was a relief, I found, to talk to someone with so much trust and hope for the world after my stay in Poland. I found myself taken to him immediately, but perhaps that was just his way.

Japan was much more reserved in greeting. He spared me little more than a polite exchange of words and gentle bob of his head. His very presence seemed to hide anything about him. Still, I'd heard of him, I knew he would prove himself useful in the days to come. Probably more so than Italy.

Faced with both of them, and West's obvious improvement, I risked a feeling of hope. Maybe this didn't have to end the same way.

Seeing Austria again proved slightly more pleasant that I'd originally thought. He laughed at my ragged appearance and we exchanged several long-overdue insults. It had an oddly calming effect on my nerves, which were still frayed from my long stay abroad and the broken Treaty.

* * *

"What's so funny, Germany?" Italy whined from his perch behind West's desk.

"Britain and France have declared war on us." he chuckled.

"That's nothing to laugh about." I warned from across the room.

"When they do something about it I'll take them seriously." he said dismissively.

"Britain and France are the leading powers in Europe, in the world." I continued. "Maybe you should be careful for a while…"

"These are the same nations that condemned you to Poland." Austria commented, apparently not as absorbed in his reading as I'd thought. "Perhaps your first emotion ought to be glee. They obviously consider us a threat."

That was true. The idea of a good, hard war with both of them was nice. But I worried that West might be overconfident again.

Had it been me, had I been in control of my kingdom and empire still, I wouldn't have hesitated to laugh at their declarations of war. I would have pressed on, regardless, and known I could handle whatever they sent my way.

But West wasn't me. He didn't have the benefit of centuries of experience of European domination. And I wasn't sure what he was planning, in the end. Everything he did seemed almost disconnected, an attack here, a threat there… It was almost as if he were trying to take the whole of Europe for himself.

But that was ridiculous.

* * *

Time marched forward, as it is prone to do. That year was busy.

When France joined the growing list of annexed territories under West's belt, I couldn't resist a visit. An old friend, and I had a bone to pick with him.

He looked horrible. Though it hadn't taken him very long to surrender it was obvious the war was not treating him kindly. He watched me with mingled hope and fear.

"Good to see you, France." I said carefully.

"Ah, _Prusse_(10)! How I have missed you!" he cried.

"I was a little caught up." I said, waving off my escort. The German soldiers vanished without another word. France swallowed nervously. "A Treaty to honor, all that."

"_Prusse_ we had no choice, you must know that-"

"Oh of course." I nodded. "No choice."

"Please, this is ridiculous," he said pathetically, holding up his bound wrists helplessly. "we are friends, aren't we?"

"I thought so." I said.

"Punishing your brother was not something I wanted to do." he said, more desperately now. "You must know that, I watched him grow up, I would never do something like this unless I thought it was necessary-"

"So you sent me away?" I asked darkly, looming over him. "Pulled us apart, left him on his own for the first time? Maybe I could have stopped this, if I wasn't busy being Poland's plaything."

"_Prusse_ please!" he begged. "Forgive me, forgive all of us. We acted without thinking! We should not have done it, we should not have torn you apart, that was wrong, I see now!" His voice had risen several octaves. "We were cruel, please, _Prusse_!"

Had it been another time, another occasion, were there not a red armband marking me as changed, I would have forgiven him. I know that much.

But, I'd lied to myself, like West had. I had changed, and I am not proud of it. But I was not the sole cause behind my corruption. West had changed me. And Poland had changed me. And none of that might have happened if the Treaty of Versailles had never been signed.

I showed him the same mercy he'd shown me.

* * *

I'll admit, I was blinded by trust, and, maybe, love. I'd always known West to be level-headed, more than me certainly. I trusted his judgment almost as much as I trusted my own. And, maybe, I was twisted like him. Maybe I lost sight of what I believed in. Maybe the Allies had turned me cold and cynical.

It would be years before I began to wonder. Wonder if West knew what he was doing. Wonder if, maybe, his Final Solution wasn't a solution at all.

It was fall again, and I found myself drawn to my easternmost namesake. East Prussia had always been the center of everything that I had been, and now, though it had never been out of German control, I felt like it was slipping away, somehow. It was a feeling I didn't like. I went without West. He had more important things to do.

It was cold again. All my memories of this place since I'd lost it were cold. I began to wonder if that might mean something but I dismissed it, because, of course, the cold had nothing to do with my feeling of discontent with the place.

How very wrong I was.

I looked over the land, just starting to blanket itself with an early snow for the winter, and my fears faded to the back of my mind. It seemed oddly peaceful. I was satisfied with the quiet for now. I liked war, that was undeniable, it was what I'd been born into and what I'd known for most of my life, but peace was nice too.

The snow blanketed everything and muffled the sounds of a quiet city. Yes, peace was nice.

There was a dull ache in my chest but I dismissed it as a symptom of war. I was part of Germany now, I was bound to feel the side effects of his loses, though there weren't many. West sure knew how to fight a war. There was a twinge of pride to that. He took after his big brother after all.

I looked on at the coming year and wondered if, maybe, when West won this war like I knew he would, if I could have this back. This little fragment of Europe, just to myself. The optimist I was, I figured he'd be more than happy to give me this one sliver of his land.

Looking back, I wonder if, had the war gone that way, West would have parted with any of it. Even for me.

* * *

A new year approached, and it looked like there would be nothing but more victories for West. He was, undeniably, a force to be reckoned with. And, being such a terrible power, he was rarely home.

Early on, I'd joined him, a source of advice and support. But I was getting tired, not that I knew why. I chalked it up to age, though it didn't make much sense for me to be affected by something as human as that. But telling myself it was age let me ignore the real reason behind my exhaustion.

It occurs to me now, with perfect hindsight, that West was gone so much to hide similar symptoms from me.

I was not alone in the house. Austria rarely left, of course. His business was almost completely taken care of for him by West, like mine. But we avoided each other apart from the occasional crossing in the kitchen or hallways. Even then we spat insults at each other, like we always had.

Still, I will admit; Austria kept me sane. And I suspect I did the same for him. We were both in denial, too far lost to West to admit that we were both lost causes. We were not in control of the situation any longer. And knowing that we were not alone kept us off the brink of insanity.

Italy was there too. He seemed to never leave, an eternal spark of light and happiness floating through the quiet hallways. If he was fighting anyone it was from a distance. More than anything else he brightened my mood on a regular basis. I'm not sure if it was his constantly optimistic opinion of everything that was happening or the deep attachment he seemed to have for West or the way he smiled at absolutely everything I said, but I found myself searching him out, craving his constant chattering to fill the silence that seemed to flood the quiet house. Though filled, with both allies and annexed territories alike, the house always seemed to lack something when West left.

Life was pleasant, but boring. I found myself longing to join West on the battlefield, where I felt I belonged, but he was still gone, still fighting. I resolved to ask him to take me with him next time he was home. He was due for a visit sometime soon anyway.

I'd taken to wandering the hallways, though I knew them by heart. I'd built them, there was nothing to explore. The quiet was almost oppressive, but for the moment, I decided to enjoy it. Privacy was something that was both omnipresent and rare in this house as the list of inhabitants grew.

I trailed my fingers along the walls, enjoying the change in texture as I reached a painting or window. The aches had been worse today but I brushed it off, blaming the weather.

But suddenly it seemed unbearable. I pulled at my shirt, seeking to relieve some of the pressure on my chest. It was a struggle to breathe and I gasped at the air helplessly, watching the world go blurry. I was cold, as if I were standing in the middle of a snowstorm.

Suddenly someone was pulling me back to my feet and I gasped in a grateful lungful of air. The world came back into focus.

"Prussia? Are you alright?" Italy's voice was high with worry. "Should I call Germany?"

"No, I'm fine. Just a fit, or something…" I tried to push him away but my balance had abandoned me. I was left clinging to him, trying to right the world, still panting, conscious of every breath of air. I suppose you don't really notice something until you lose it.

"Are you sure? Germany said to call him if something happened. Maybe we could ask Austria, he might know-"

"No, I'm fine, really. Just…give me a minute." I said, closing my eyes before the spinning room made me throw up on Italy. I knew he was decidedly attached to Austria from his youth but I wasn't willing to lower myself to that quite yet.

Italy stayed quiet beyond the occasional whine and let me lean on him, for which I was grateful. The tightness in my chest had lightened just enough for me to breathe, but it still left me panting rather hard. I felt like I'd been punched in the chest.

Eventually I got used to the sensation enough to support myself. Italy continued to keep his hand on my arm, ready to steady me should I prove unstable again.

"T..thanks." I panted.

"Maybe we should call Germany… He might know something, at least?" Italy begged.

"Alright, if you really want to. But I'm fine, honest." I said, finding the pain in my chest was already fading.

It turned out to be unnecessary. As we approached the front room West himself entered. Italy ran to him, crying out a greeting and throwing his arms around him happily. I smiled at the look of mingled annoyance and pleasure on West's face. I suspected he was just as enamored with the hyperactive Italian as the latter was with him.

"Germany, Germany," Italy said quickly, letting go of West enough to look at him. "there was something wrong with Prussia."

He looked at me with concern.

"It's nothing." I assured him, waving my hand dismissively.

"If something's wrong with your side of the country I should know," he said, frowning.

"It's nothing." I insisted. "I just lost my breath for a minute. I'm old, it happens."

West was too busy to continue to argue with someone who was set on insisting they were healthy. He would be here for just a few days; he was needed on the other side of the country. As he said, 'the war won't fight itself'.

As always when my time with him was short, the next few days flew by far too quickly. Before I knew it, it was the night before West was set to leave again. He'd be gone in just a few hours; he had to leave early in the morning to get to his destination in time.

I found myself knocking on his office door, wondering when I'd lowered myself to knocking. There was a call from inside and I pushed the door open.

"Oh, Prussia, just a minute." West told me. "There's just one last thing I have to do."

He and his boss continued the conversation I'd obviously just interrupted. I knew West was fond of his boss but I couldn't like the man. Maybe it was just the obvious Austrian blood in him, or his awkward appearance, but I only showed him the minimum respect required of a country to another's boss.

Though, as I reminded myself, he was my boss as well.

"Planning something dramatic?" I asked, shutting the door behind him.(11)

"Just the usual." he said, smiling. "How've you been, Prussia?"

"Great." I lied. "Listen, I was wondering if you'd let me tag along on this latest adventure of yours."

He frowned slightly, focused on his papers.

"What? You think I'd just be a burden?" I asked.

"Of course not." he said quickly. "Tell you what, I won't be gone long. I'm going East next, come with me then."

"Where are you going now?" I asked.

"Just around the country." he said vaguely. "Boring stuff, you'll just be whining at me the whole time. Just wait until I get back."

I could tell he just wanted to drop the subject.

"Alright." I agreed after a moment.

It wasn't until the next day, when I was looking out the frosted windows with Italy, that I found out what it was West was so set against me seeing.

"I wish he didn't have to leave so often." Italy sighed miserably, looking so forlorn I couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Why don't you ever go with him?" I asked.

He shuddered. "I don't like those places."

"What places?" I asked, lost.

"The camps." he said, looking at me with wide eyes. "He's checking on the camps."

It seemed so obvious for a moment I could do nothing but silently berate myself. And then I was curious. I hadn't seen his camps in a few years. I wondered how much they'd changed for Germany to be ashamed for me to see them.

* * *

One morning I came downstairs to a quiet house. Austria was staring out the window, which was odd. Whenever I saw him he was occupied with something or another.

"Where's Italy?" I asked, yawning.

"He's surrendered."

I thought that over. "I guess it was inevitable."

Austria shrugged.

"Where's West?"

"Still gone."

"Does he know?"

"He's the one that sent us the message."

"Oh."

It seemed the house had lost what little cheer it had.

"He signed an agreement with the Allies. They're protecting him." Austria said after a moment.

"From who?"

"From us."

That seemed ridiculous to me. I couldn't imagine West attacking Italy, even after this. I remembered the way Italy had leapt into his arms, the way he'd smiled at him, the way he very rarely smiled at anyone. Surely, West would never consider attacking Italy. It wasn't as if he posed a threat.

"What's it like at the camps?" I asked suddenly.

Austria didn't answer immediately.

"Why?"

"I dunno. West doesn't want me to see them, I guess."

"You've been to them before."

"Yah, but that was years ago. Italy said he was terrified of them."

"Italy's terrified of his own shadow, he's always been like that." Austria dismissed my concerns easily. "If you really want to know what the camps are like, ask Germany yourself."

"But he doesn't want me to know." I said, frustrated.

"Then why would I tell you?"

I wasn't sure what I'd expected. Because we were both in the same situation? Because I'd expected Austria to be willing to tell me something West wouldn't?

"If he doesn't want you to know, maybe you should just let him keep it from you." Austria said after a moment. "He's been going out of his way to keep you out of the thick of things. He's probably just trying to protect you."

I thought about that.

"It's not his job to protect me." I said finally, as much to myself as Austria. "I'm his big brother. I should be protecting him."

"You should know that changed a long time ago." Austria advised me. "Since he lost you to Poland he's been trying to keep you safe. He feels guilty."

* * *

A week into the new year, West returned. I watched him carefully, looking for any sign of what he'd been doing. But West had long since learned to lock his true emotions in a place even I couldn't get to.

Fortunately, I far surpassed him in that particular talent.

West kept his promise. The next morning we were set to travel East, to be sure all was well on my side of the country.

I realized I hadn't spent more than a week with West in years. He seemed so overworked, so exhausted. War was hard, and he was spread thin.

We reached the outskirts of East Prussia late in the day. Maybe it was just the cold, but my chest felt tight as we stepped into the frozen air. I sighed and looked around at what I'd been wanting to see for a while now. The sight of uniforms and fingers curled around heavy guns put a smile back on my face. Call it disturbed, but war was something I'd always enjoy.

Almost immediately West was ambushed by his men, all clamoring for his attention like children around an exasperated parent. I listened half-heartedly, more interested in the line of armored cars to our left.

"…the Red Army. They're getting closer, we don't know what to do-"

"What do you mean they're getting closer?" West demanded. "How far have they gotten?"

"N..not that far, sir. Their casualties are high but they're still coming at us from the East-"

"When did this start?"

"A..about three months ago." the poor soldier stammered.

"Why wasn't I informed?"

"The attack stopped shortly after that, it hasn't been any problem until recently-"

"Three months ago…when I was last home?" he asked, turning to me now. "Why did you tell me anything?"

"I didn't know!" I said honestly.

"Italy said there was something wrong with you that day." he raged.

"J-just a little short of breath, that's all, West!" I insisted. "That's all it was-"

"You can't hide things like this from me! Only traitors keep things from me!"

"West-!"

The impact of his hand sent me staggering back, clutching my bruised cheek, feeling blood well up between my fingers. The world faded out of view for a moment.

Instantly, the anger on his face disappeared.

"Prussia, I'm so sorry, I didn't-"

"No, you're right Germany." I said, not meeting his eyes. "I shouldn't hide things from you."

"Are you alright? I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I shook it off. "I'm fine." I lied.

* * *

"I'll be back soon." Germany promised. I ignored him, more occupied with staring up at the ceiling.

"I know you can handle running things here." he added.

"Yes, Germany." I told him politely.

He sighed and left, shutting the door behind him. I was alone in my quarters, a private room in the barracks. Only the best for an ex-country.

I sighed and covered my face with my hands, forcing my fingers up through the hair trailing over my eyes. The skin beneath my hand throbbed dully.

_"He's probably just trying to protect you. He feels guilty._"

Suddenly I was laughing, uncontrollably, hysterically. Perhaps, given the evidence, a sane person might argue that those words were twisted. Would have at least lied to themselves.

But I'd long since abandoned sanity.

West was my brother, and, though both of us might have a hard time admitting to it, I loved him. But West…wasn't West anymore. This was Germany I was dealing with, and I had to accept that I had no idea what that meant.

Sometime later, I found myself in the bathrooms, alone. My hands gripped the metal sink screwed to the wall and I leaned over it, looking down at the stark contrast of the dark steel biting into my pale skin.

My breath came in sharp gasps, and I wondered if I was having another fit. But, no, this was different. Something I hadn't done in a long time.

I was crying.

Tears hit the sink, stinging as they ran over swollen skin. I looked up, into the mirror.

I almost couldn't recognize myself. A cut ran under my eye, accenting the shiny, swollen skin around it. On the other side of my face I was gaunt, heavy shadows tinted the colorless skin with exhaustion and pain.

The only thing I could recognize were my eyes, burning a harsh red in the mirror.

_Is this it?_ asked a furious voice from the depths of my mind. _Is this all you are now? Just a broken husk of a country? What happened to you?_

My breath fogged the mirror and I lost sight of my reflection.

"I don't know."

* * *

"Sir,"

I groaned and rolled over, looking up blearily at the soldier standing at my bedside.

"What?" I asked thickly.

"They want you." he panted.

"Tell them I'll be there in a minute."

The boy nodded and dashed away to carry my order to the generals circling their complicated maps and plans. I pulled myself out of bed slowly, feeling the various aches of war slow my movement slightly. Almost subconsciously, I reached up to feel the skin around my eye.

It was still tender, but the swelling had gone down. I pulled my uniform on and followed the soldier at a slower pace.

It was colder. I pulled my arms through my jacket and stumbled through the snow towards the center of activity.

"What exactly is going on?" I asked.

One of Germany's generals pulled away from his maps to answer my question.

"The Soviets have circled around behind us."

My heart dropped.

"They've reached the Baltic Sea. We're completely cut off from the rest of Germany."

* * *

Alone. I stumbled through the snow, watching it turn red around my feet. I couldn't remember if I was bleeding or if it was just my imagination. I couldn't remember if it even mattered.

The cold was everywhere, pressing on my skin through the tears in my jacket, freezing blood to my skin and fusing my ungloved fingers together. Perhaps, then, the blood was real? I'll admit that even looking back I don't know how much I imagined and how much was genuinely there.

Why was I here? The exact memory had faded, possibly because of a blow to the head, but I couldn't remember that either.

Afterward, I discovered that we'd been ambushed by Soviet soldiers. Some of us were killed. Some were taken prisoner. Some vanished into the frozen wasteland around us, choosing to face the elements over the mercy of the Soviets. I assume I was part of this group.

I was lost. In all directions, the world was flat and white, land leveled by war. My hands plunged into the snow, though I couldn't remember falling. The exposed skin burned with cold and I pulled them free, looking at the blackened tips colored with frozen blood.

I didn't have the energy to get up. I remember, in those frozen moments, begging, pleading, praying for someone to find me, to save me. I wanted to live.

Despite a decidedly Christian birth, my faith has shaken once or twice. Looking back, maybe there is a God who heard my cries. Maybe he just has a twisted sense of humor.

Someone pulled me to my feet. I stumbled, trying to keep my balance with some success. The hands that clutched my arms were cold and hard, overlapping easily and making me feel small in comparison. I looked up blearily to see who had pulled me from the snow.

There are few times in my life I will admit to being genuinely scared. This was one of those times.

Russia's innocent face beamed down at me. I struggled against him, knowing only that he was the reason I was lost in the cold in the first place, the reason Germany was cut off from me now, behind his wall of an army. Maybe I was weakened from nearly dying in the cold. Maybe he was just much stronger than me. My efforts had no effect.

"Calm, little one." he cooed at me. "You are safe now, da?"

"Let me go." I rasped, trying to push away from his chest.

"You won't last out here all alone." he said, as if speaking to a child. "Where is your brother, I wonder? Has he left you here to die?"

I didn't bother wasting breath answering him. He cupped my bruised cheek and I flinched away.

"Did he do this to you?" he asked, holding my chin still so he could look at it more closely. I shivered. His hands were bare and cold and rough, like ice grating on my skin. "Well don't worry. He can't hurt you anymore."

* * *

With a gentleness that only made me more anxious, he wrapped my bloody, blackened hands.

"Better, da?" he asked, finished with his project. I took my bound hands back, uncomfortable with the lack of movement the bandages allowed. He leaned over me, forcing me back against the table I was sitting on. His hands were planted firmly on either side of me, trapping me.

"You look so cute like that." he sighed. "Like a cornered rabbit."

"What do you want?" I asked suddenly, trying to calm the frantic beating of my heart in my throat. "Why didn't you just let me die?"

He leaned closer still, so our faces were barely an inch apart. There was nowhere for me to go, no more room to lean back into. His breath was freezing.

"Where would the fun be in that?"

As suddenly as it had started, it was over. He straightened and left the rough-hewn medical tent, and I was alone.

Shaking, both from exhaustion and fading terror, I tried to calm myself enough to stand. With some coaxing on my part, my legs held my weight, though I was leaning heavily on the table with my bandaged hands.

The soft fabric door to the tent opened again and startled me into losing my footing again. A pair of hands caught me and I immediately tried to push away, but, no, these were smaller, weaker. I looked up at the pale, scrawny man holding me up. He smiled half-heartedly at me, helping me sit back on the table.

He was familiar in a distant way, someone I'd known a long time ago. He set the mug he'd been carrying in my hands, and immediately the warmth returned feeling to them. I winced.

"Drink that." he said quietly. "It'll take the edge off."

I took a tentative sip. Whatever it was, it was hot enough to burn my mouth. I immediately swallowed half of it. A warm sensation crept across my chest.

I kept looking at him, sure that this wasn't our first meeting. As the drink pressed the cold from my numbed mind, recognition brought a name to my burnt tongue.

"Lithuania?"

"It's been a while, Prussia." he said.

"What're you doing here?" I asked, taking another large mouthful from the mug.

"Same as you, I suppose." he said, pulling back the sleeve of his uniform. "Russia took an interest in me."

I looked at the hammer and sickle carved into his arm(12). He traced the raised skin absently.

"He'll do it to you, too." Lithuania told me.

"Like hell." I said defiantly.

He smiled again. "It's what he wants. Russia gets what he wants."

* * *

Watching Russia and his Soviets was interesting.

Russia dominated, without a doubt, with sheer power and size. There was no questioning of authority. There was no hesitation. People walked with their heads angled down and their hands clasped, the stance of an underling. They bowed even to his men, the soldiers marked out by their uniforms and large build. No one here would risk Russia's anger.

In the past, I'd made alliances and enemies without much thought. I was willing to take just about anyone for an alliance, so long as they knew I might turn around and attack them as soon as we were done. More than once I'd taken even Austria as an ally.

Germany was different. I thought of Italy and the easy way he loved Germany, the way Germany protected him and kept him as an ally despite his uselessness. Even Japan fit into their dynamic, a friend, someone both of them trusted without much thought.

This was different. These weren't allies. These were servants.

I found Lithuania at my side more often than I would have expected. He muttered advice in my ear when Russia was around, telling me when to look down and when to answer. It was a presence I was thankful for.

I remembered Lithuania, remembered him before Russia had stolen his dignity. He'd been quite strong, at least, strong enough to defeat me. I knew him to be timid and soft-spoken, but beneath that, he was brave. He didn't cower before Russia, as some of the others did. He looked him in the eye when he spoke, though the words were submissive and yielding.

Lithuania was an enigma. But I appreciated a presence other than Russia that understood a sense of dignity.

It was with him that I met, quite possibly, the most terrifying nation on Earth. She raged through camp with all the grace and secrecy of a forest fire.

"Where is he?" she demanded authoritatively. "I want to see him. Where is he hiding?"

No one would answer her. I only had enough time to wonder who 'he' was before she noticed me.

"Who're you?" she said, looming over me despite being several inches shorter.

"Prussia." I said squarely.

"You're the German territory Brother took." she said, distracted from her rage for a moment.

"Brother?" I asked, taken by surprise. Russia had siblings?

"Brother is powerful and strong. He will win this war and make the rest of Europe his." she said, with such confidence I couldn't help but believe it for a minute. If Germany wasn't the clear victor I might agree with her.

"I don't know why he's interested in you, though." she went on, looking me up and down.

"Probably because I'm just so amazing he can't stand it." I said. I was never very good at knowing when to hold my tongue.

She reacted immediately and violently. The cold press of steel on my neck was the only way I knew she'd even pulled a knife.

"Brother is a thousand times the country you are." she said fiercely, violet eyes sparking.

"Okay, okay." I said, pushing her hand away gently.

She turned on her heel and stalked away, still set in finding Russia.

"What the hell was that?" I asked Lithuania.

"Belarus." he told me.

The way he said it made me turn to look at him.

"You fancy her." I said, laughing.

"What? No, be quiet!" he insisted, eyes widening.

"How could you fancy something that demented? She's not right in the head, man, you could do so much better." I told him seriously.

"She's only got eyes for Russia anyway." he said, shaking his head, returning to his work.

"What, you mean… she's got the hots for her brother?" I asked.

"Russia's family is interesting." He commented noncommittally. "He's terrified of her."

I looked after the wake Belarus had left, a generous space the others gave her.

"I believe it." If ever there was someone Russia would be afraid of…

* * *

Belarus might have been after Russia, but it was soon obvious that Russia's attentions were pulled in a much different direction.

He would come from nowhere, trapping me against a wall, and I would have no option but to look down at the murky snow, churned and grayed by the struggle. But it would stop there, he would murmur something in my ear and then he would be gone, as if I'd imagined the whole thing.

It was when I was alone, when I left my cold, lonely room in the evenings, the middle of the night, when no one else was around.

He seemed disappointed with my lack of response, and I hoped he would abandon the attempts. It was bad enough he kept me here, a prisoner on my own land. I didn't need this.

He grew bolder. I was with Lithuania, helping him with his work out of sheer boredom. Like always, I didn't see him until it was too late.

He pinned my wrists to the wall now, and I looked at them hopelessly, just wanting it to be over, for him to leave.

"Why bother helping the underlings?" he whispered. Lithuania continued his work as if nothing had happened. It was somehow worse with him there.

When I failed to answer, he pressed closer. "You are better than them. You do not need to dirty your hands."

I swallowed nervously. _He'll go, he'll go, he'll go…please go._

He did, after a few more moments of silence. I looked down, trying to hide my trembling. Lithuania was, thankfully, silent.

"I hate him." I said finally, honestly.

"He'll get what he wants." he told me knowingly.

"Not from me." I said, but even I didn't believe it.

He smiled at my attempt. "Russia does not take no for an answer. He's willing to play with you for now. He will get impatient. It will be better if you give in."

I knew he was right. That my life might be simpler if I just let Russia take what he wanted and leave me be. But I have never been one to abandon dignity, and this was no exception. If Russia wanted something from me he would have to take it by force, even if that made it all the worse.

* * *

Russia, it turned out, was less patient than I'd hoped for. Barely a week later, I left my room in search of the bathroom. He found me on my way back, the way he always did. With no wall to pin me against, he clasped my wrists with his iron grip.

"How are you, my little rabbit?" he murmured.

Frustrated and angry with my helplessness, I made the mistake of answering him.

"I'm not a rabbit."

His hands tightened. "But you are. You are quiet and soft and white." He released one of my wrists to pat my hair. "But you fight back. I like things that fight back."

I tried to pull away, to put some space between us at least, but he was so much stronger than I was.

And faster. Before I knew what had happened his lips were moving mine and his hands pressed on me, holding me in place for him. His tongue broke though and pushed mine out of the way with such force I thought it would bruise.

It took me so by surprise that for a moment I stayed where I was, limp and terrified. I came to my senses and I struggled against him, pushing on his chest with both hands, trying anything, everything, to get him out of my mouth. All I could think was _not yet, not now_.

He let me break away and I stumbled back, but his hands were there again, stopping me, trapping me. I cried out, shouted, did anything that might make him break his hold.

But the camp was silent. We were the only two people awake. The only two people alive. I was yelling, screaming, pleading, clawing at him, at anything I could reach as he pulled me along. They stayed in their barracks, in their rooms, silent. This was no news to them. This was the inevitable. I was the only one who had yet to accept that.

I couldn't. Russia pulled me along easily, effortlessly, like a ragdoll. I threw my weight against his pull, but his grip wouldn't break. My skin burned where his hands pulled it. I couldn't see, my vision was blurred by fright and tears. They burned as they froze in place, breaking free as I reached blindly for salvation that was always just out of reach.

"Germany!" I found myself calling, crying. "Germany! Please, please! Don't leave me, don't let him take me! West! West!"

But Germany was gone, out of earshot, and even if he wasn't, Russia's soldiers separated us. Even if he wanted to help me, he couldn't. I was completely, utterly alone.

Except for Russia.

* * *

(13)

Blood trickled down my exposed skin, running over bruises and welts, staining Russia's already soiled sheets. I risked opening one eye, ready to shut it again at a moment's notice.

He was gone.

I curled in on myself, ignoring the protests of aching muscles, pulling my arms up over my head, blocking the world from view.

I don't know how long I stayed there. All I wanted was to disappear, to vanish into the snow, to someplace Russia couldn't find. I wanted West.

Finally, I decided that I couldn't stay here, wallowing in self-pity, in Russia's quarters. He would be back, eventually, and the farther I stayed from him the better my sanity would fair. I did my best to brush the drying blood off my skin with his sheets and found my clothes crumpled in a corner. They slid on roughly, grating against my raw skin and bringing blood back to the surface. I gritted my teeth against it.

I managed to slip back into my room unnoticed. Shaking, I gripped the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. Outside, the camp slowly came to life.

Before I knew it I was crying again. I wanted to shower, but I was terrified to leave the relative safety of my room. Russia never came for me in here. It was the last place I knew to hide.

Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore. I scrubbed off any lingering tears or blood on my face and slipped out into the cold, eyes down. Did they know, I wondered? Did they know what had happened the night before?

I made it to the bathrooms safely, relieved that they were empty. Without looking at the mirrors, I slipped into a shower, peeling off my clothes once more. They were torn where my struggles had frustrated Russia, and I resolved to burn them.

The water stung at first, but it was a good hurt. The way antiseptic feels; a clean hurt. The water that swirled lazily around the drain was stained dark brown. I stood, motionless, under the spray. No longer hidden by blood or clothes, I took in the damage for the first time.

Scratches that ran down my shoulders, too deep or wide to match my own fingers; welts and pockmarks, some still bleeding; bruises that ranged from deep purple-blue to pale yellow. I ran my fingers over the darkest bruising on my arms, watching them tremble. It was as if I was looking on from a long way away, like I was someone else, looking at this body, beaten and bruised, with pity.

Alone, with the dull throb of hot water running over me, I broke down. I curled in on myself, sitting on the floor, pressing my forehead to my knees, as if that would help. As if I could ever forget any of it. Every minute, every second, every breath and noise burned hopelessly in my mind, permanent. Every whispered word, telling me what a good little rabbit I was, and that this was what I deserved. Every muted cry for help.

The water numbed my skin where it hit but I couldn't move. Some small voice prodded me from the back of my mind, telling me I couldn't stay here forever, that someone would come into the bathrooms eventually. I had a hard time listening to it.

But, eventually, I did. I stood and scrubbed my skin raw and, finally clean, pulled fresh clothes on. They were simple, Russian clothes, the same I'd seen on others, and I hated them. I picked my clothes off the floor, the torn, dirtied German clothes I'd arrived in. I hated to see the last thing I had that was truly mine go, but I couldn't wear them anymore. I just couldn't.

A thought occurred to me. My hand went first to my throat and then to my pockets, growing more and more desperate. Finally, I shook the damaged clothes out, hoping to hear it clatter to the floor.

Nothing. It was gone. Infuriated, feelings of shame and self-hate faded to the back of my mind. I stormed from the bathroom, ignoring the curious stares of Soviet soldiers.

"Where is it?" I raged, breathing hard.

Russia turned calmly from whatever it was he was doing to look at me, a soft smile playing on his face. I hated that smile.

"Good morning, Prussia." he said brightly.

"Where is it?" I repeated.

"Did you sleep well?"

"WHERE IS IT?" I shouted, fist clenching, terrified to get closer and frustrated with the space between us.

His hand disappeared into a pocket and his face grew thoughtful. "What are you so upset about, little rabbit?"

His hand appeared again, dangling a thin black chain. My eyes locked on it, on the Iron Cross swinging from it.

"Ah. This means that much to you?" he asked innocently.

"G..give it back." I said, swallowing. "It's mine. Give it back."

"I don't know." he said thoughtfully. "It seems very German. I don't want you lost in the past, rabbit, maybe I should just keep it for now."

It vanished into his hand.

"Yes, maybe that's best for now."

"Give it back!" I shouted. I needed that one thing, just that one little thing, that would remind me of home. When it was all I had left.

He laughed at me. I clawed at his hand, no longer afraid, only anxious and angry, but my fingers did little good against his frozen skin. The cross stayed locked away inside his hand.

So I bit it.

I don't know why I did it. Like I've said, maybe at that point I was just so far past sanity it was my only option. Maybe it was from pain, or shock, but his hand opened. I snatched the cross away from him, clutching it tight to my chest and stumbling away from him, feeling the sharp edges dig into my fingers with satisfaction.

The look of surprise on his face didn't last long.

"Maybe you aren't the defenseless rabbit after all." he said, smiling with some disgusting pleasure.

I didn't answer. I was suddenly terrified he would take the cross from me again. Or worse, of course.

"Tell me, rabbit," he said, closing the space between us and locking his hand around my wrist. "Do you like to fight back?"

I wanted to tell him I did. I wanted to tell him that I would never be this weak if i weren't just a shell. If I weren't cut off from Germany, if I weren't just a lost little territory.

But I said nothing. I looked up at him, cross clutched in my bruised hand, my most precious possession at that moment, afraid he would take it again, that I wouldn't be able to get it back.

"You'd make a fine Soviet." he told me. "Don't you want that? To join me? We're very strong, you know, much stronger than that brother of yours."

I tried to pull away, but it was pointless. He pulled down my sleeve, baring my forearm, which mercifully lacked any scratches or bruises. His finger traced a pattern only he could see there.

"We will come for you anyway. If you join us now, you'll be one of us."

"Let go of me." I muttered, trying to pull free. To my surprise, he let me go.

"Alright, rabbit." he told me, as if I were giving up the best deal of my life. "As you wish. But think it over. Your brother can't save you now."

As I've said, I've never really learned when to hold my tongue.

"You don't know what he can do!" I shouted at him. "He'll break through and make you regret everything!" (15)

Russia laughed.

* * *

As time wore on, I felt colder, emptier. I knew people were fleeing, making the same choice I had, to hope the winter would prove more merciful than the Soviet army.

Winter was fading, but that didn't seem to change anything. The snow melted, the rain turned it to muddy slosh, but it was always cold around Russia. And it seemed I was always around Russia.

He kept me close at hand, telling me there was still a chance to give in, to let him make me a Soviet. I refused, perhaps weakly, but it was a refusal, none-the-less. I wanted nothing more than to stay as far from him as possible, but, maybe for exactly that reason, he liked me nearby.

There were times he decided to drag me back to his quarters, make me relive that night. I grew tired of it, an ordeal I had to face, a ritual he wanted to play out. I hated it, I hated him for it.

The bittersweet day came at last. Germany finally surrendered to the Allies. I could go home.

Russia had let me go without a fuss, which worried me. But it was a problem that could wait. I was free of Russia and I was back with Germany. That was what I cared about.

He was cold, and distant. He greeted me as if I were a stranger, not his brother. He was bruised and bloodied by war and by his own actions. I didn't know what to do with him.

"Germany, are you okay?" I asked him.

"I'm as fine as can be expected." he said stiffly.

"How're the Allies treating you? Better than last time?" I asked tentatively, looking for some sign of warmth. But it seemed he'd been changed by the war, he was now someone I didn't know.

"Yes. They're being rather helpful."

"That's good." I said, defeated. I played along with this new distance. "I hope you feel better."

"You too, Prussia."

I nodded sadly.

* * *

Somehow, it never seemed something good was happening when I was in Germany's office. He called me to him through a messenger, of all things.

I entered without knocking. I'd been called, after all. I was still frustrated with the way he was acting towards me.

"Prussia." he said shortly. He gestured to the chair that still sat waiting for me, barely pausing to look up from his work. "We have some things to discuss."

"Right." I settled in the chair. "Like what?"

"As you know, the majority of your territory has either been ceded to other countries, or is simply a part of the whole of Germany." He said formally, as if he were reading off one of the papers on his desk. I wondered if he was.

"Yah." I said slowly. "I can see how that's a bit of a problem."

"As has been decided by the new government of Germany, myself included, the country of Prussia is no longer in existence and thus shall be completely dissolved."

It was a quiet for a long time.

"What?" I demanded finally. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Germany said, still not looking at me. "that you have lost your claim to power. Your title is revoked."

"But…" I struggled for words. Betrayal poured through my mind. "That..that'll kill me, West."

"I'm aware."

"West!" I cried. "You'd do that? You'd kill your own brother?"

"The time of the Kingdom of Prussia is long over. I suggest you accept your fate." Germany said, emotionless.

I could only stare at him. "West..Germany… You'd kill me? After all you did to get me back from Poland? After all I've done for you, after I raised you?"

"It doesn't matter!" he shouted, slamming his pen on his desk. "Your reign has ended! You are not a country anymore, you are simply a nuisance!"

"If I'm such a nuisance, why don't you just kill me now?" I screamed back at him. I'd never imagined this sort of betrayal from him. Not from Germany. "Why don't you just run me through? Or maybe let your fucking camps take care of me?"

His face reddened with anger. "Get out of my office! You don't deserve to exist, you worthless scrap of a country! Get out!"

I left, because at that moment I was terrified of Germany. I found an empty room and collapsed in it, pulling my arms tight around my knees. I'd escaped Russia, but to what? To this? To death? Because that was what Germany intended to do. He planned to kill me. He'd just do it in the cleanest, most legal way possible.

* * *

I had one last card to play.

I'd seen him before, of course. He'd been around for about three hundred years, longer than Germany. But I'd never really had a long conversation with him. A word or two in passing. I had been more interested in Europe. Let the others worry about the New World. Spain and France and England could have it. I gave them any land I might have found. I didn't need it. I was big enough, powerful enough.

At the top of my power, years ago now, I had dominated Europe. Looking at this kid – because that's all he was, a kid – I couldn't help but feel like the control I'd had was laughable in comparison.

America towered over me. Not quite as tall as Russia, but very close. And, yet, the differences between them were so obvious I could barely notice the similarities. Where Russia was a constant mystery, emotions hidden behind a smile that never changed, America was an open book. His smile was real. His laugh was warm, full of life.

I'd heard of America's self-proclaimed 'promise land'. He'd taken in the refugees from Europe, but I knew that, much of the time, they were less than welcome. Yet, seeing America for myself, I thought that maybe, it might be true what America said. Maybe the American dream really was everything he promised it was.

Still, it took me some nerve to approach America. He was just intimidating, without the knowledge of what he'd done. The bomb he'd dropped on Japan was the worst weapon anyone had ever heard of. It might have been German technology, but America had made it real. Like a nightmare brought to life. He'd stepped into a war raging in Europe, not for the first time, and soothed it. I couldn't see a single scratch on his face. He was healthy. Not just healthy, _thriving_. The Americans had profited from the war. They weren't crushed and weakened by years of fighting.

Finally, I found him alone. He was talking with one of his men, someone in a heavily-decorated military uniform. The man saluted and ran off, to take care of whatever America had asked of him. I didn't even have to approach the towering nation. He caught sight of me looking and waved me over, grinning from ear to ear like we were old friends.

"Hey, you're Prussia, right? Germany's older brother?"

"Yah." I said cautiously. All things considered, I wouldn't think America would take so kindly to a relative of Germany's.

"I remember you." America nodded. "You sent a general or two over to help me out during the Revolution, right?"

I thought back. It was possible. I was willing to do a lot to weaken England. I nodded.

"Good guy. Helped me out." America clapped him on the back and I saw stars. "Your brother, though. He's been up to some crazy shit."

He said it like he'd been stealing cars.

"Terrible stuff." America shook his head. "I'll be talking to the other Allies tomorrow, though. Make sure we don't have a repeat of the Treaty of Versailles." He laughed. "That was some messed up stuff, eh, Prussia? I walked away from that one. Told them it wasn't my problem anymore. Guess it ended up being my problem anyway. You Europeans and your wars. I just can't figure you out."

I couldn't figure him out. I'd never met someone so…happy. He just dismissed everything with a wave of his hand and walked down the halls of Germany's house, arm over me like we were the best of friends. "Now, what've you been up to since the war ended? Anything?"

I shook my head. "Germany…is renouncing me as a country."

America's arm slid off my shoulder.

"Man, that's messed up. He's supposed to be your brother and all. I'd never do some shit like that to Canada." He shook his head.

"Please." I said suddenly, grabbing his collar. "Please, you can't let him. You're in charge now, right? You can stop him. Please, don't let him kill me!"

America looked uncomfortable. "Well, yah, I guess I could, but it's a lot of trouble, Prussia, and I think Russia and Poland want some compensation for the war. Your land'll make good bargaining chips. I just want this over with, you know?"

"Please!" I begged. "Don't you get it? He'll kill me! What if England had decided to dissolve you? I deserve better, don't I? I didn't have anything to do with this! This was him! He's going to kill me! You're a hero, aren't you?" I played the only card I knew America might respond to. "Heroes don't let innocent people die!"

America detached my hands, discomfort increased. "Hey, I'll bring it up tomorrow, okay? I'll see what I can do. Don't get your hopes up."

I let go finally. There was nothing else I could do. I'd thrown dignity out the window; I was trying to survive now. That was all.

As I curled in on myself in the now-empty hallway, I wondered when I'd changed so much.

* * *

America had abandoned me. None of them cared. None of them wanted to think about me. I was a problem that needed a solution.

Russia had a solution. Why kill me? What a waste. I could just come live with Russia. Problem solved.

Somehow, I felt like I'd rather be killed.

But I wasn't that lucky. I was part of the growing Soviet Union, and wasn't Russia just overjoyed to see me finally join his side. He showed me, with burning excitement, the only emotion I ever saw in him, the wall he was building.

"It's the Berlin Wall." Russia said, staring at the fragments that stretched across the new boarder. "It runs right through Berlin. See, now, you get to keep some of your Berlin! Aren't you happy?"

I was not. The wall was the last thing to destroy my trust in Germany. He wasn't West anymore. He was Germany, and I wanted nothing to do with him. Maybe this wall might be a good thing after all, if only I was not trapped here with Russia.

"Two new countries. Perhaps your brother will join us here someday." Russia said, surveying the wall proudly. "The Soviet Union does not judge. It only wants to bring the give of Communism to those who do not have it."

"Who am I?" I asked suddenly.

"What do you mean, my rabbit?" Russia asked, smiling at me over his omnipresent scarf.

"They said Prussia was dissolved. Who am I? What am I?" I asked, staring at my own fingers.

"Ah, of course. Prussia is not your name anymore." Russia said. "You are East Germany now."

I looked up at him, confused.

"You have been a German state for a while now, yes?" Russia asked. "Now you are your own country again. The German Democratic Republic. The rest of the world has simply been calling you East Germany."

"What about Germany?" I asked, looking up at him again. "What's he going by now?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Russia smiled. "West Germany."

I laughed. It was an uncontrollable, hysterical laugh. Russia put his arm around me as if he was worried I might suddenly collapse and he'd be left without his pet rabbit.

All this time I'd spent wondering who was West and who was Germany. All this time it'd been right in front of my face. I'd been trying to give him a single, static personality, it had never even occurred to me. West, Germany, they were both two sides of one person. There had never been any difference.

I wish I'd noticed that earlier.

Russia took me back. Away from the wall, away from Germany. West Germany. I was East Germany now, but Russia never called me that. I was Prussia to him. I was fine with that. I liked Prussia. It was a name I'd taken for myself, a long time ago. I'd taken it from Old Prussia. He didn't need it anymore, now did he? Not with my sword in his back.

Yes, I liked the name Prussia. So I kept it, whatever the world called me.

Russia did not stop his abuse, but, somehow, I got used to it. It wasn't love, it was never love, but there was a certain…affection for him. For what he did. Stockholm syndrome, I think they call it in English. I didn't hate it as much as I might have at one point.

I mentioned this to Lithuania once. He just laughed.

"It grows on you after a while." he said over the dinner he was fixing. He was a servant in the Soviet house. So was I. "You just get used to it."

"He used to do it to you, didn't he?" I had suspected it for a long time now.

He smiled. "Once. A long time ago. He's much more taken with you, though."

I scoffed. "'Taken'? He likes to torment me, that's all."

Lithuania shook his head. "He doesn't like to admit affection to anyone. But he's very careful with you. He built that wall because he was terrified Germany would want you back."

"Germany isn't going to get in any more trouble." I dismissed immediately. "And what would happen if the wall fell, anyway? I'd probably just die anyway. No more East Germany. Just Germany."

"Germany annexed Austria, didn't he?" Lithuania asked, stirring something in a large pot. "Austria stayed himself."

"Austria was…that was different." I told him, but I was suddenly unsure. I'd always thought that the wall Russia had built was the only thing keeping me alive at this point.

"Who knows? We're such mysteries. Can anyone really say what happens when we join another? What are we now, aren't we just part of the Soviet Union?" Lithuania pointed out.

"No, it's like the German Empire." I said stubbornly. "Or the Holy Roman Empire. We can be ourselves and part of someone else."

"So, then, it's up to whoever's in charge." Lithuania said.

"Yah, exactly." I nodded in agreement.

"You think Germany would be so quick to see you dead?"

"He already was." I muttered, reaching out to help him with dinner.

"Maybe." Lithuania allowed. "But if the wall comes down, is it a death sentence?"

I thought about that. I didn't know. I traced the puckered skin Russia had left on my arm, a hammer and sickle, just like the one I could see on Lithuania's arm now.

I just didn't know.

* * *

I was not a prisoner. This was my home. Russia let me wander, because he knew I had no place to go. No one wanted me but him.

I found my way to the finished wall. It was guarded, but they only nodded at me as I approached. Russia had given me permission to observe his work up close. I pressed my gloved fingers to the icy stone, lost in thought.

I'd always seen this wall as my lifeline. It kept me alive, kept me trapped in my own personal hell, but as long as that hell was above ground, I was okay with that. I was very attached to life.

Now I saw it the way my people saw it. It was a prison wall. It kept me away from the rest of the world, like an animal on display at a zoo. I was for looks.

I pressed my forehead to it, letting the cold seep into my bare skin, thinking. This wall. This wall kept me from my little brother. The little brother that had turned his back on me. The little brother that had signed my death sentence.

But he was still my little brother.

There was the sound of walking on the other side. Someone spoke bitingly to the guards and they laughed.

I knew that voice.

"West!" I called. I didn't care, suddenly. I didn't care about any of it. I just wanted to see him again.

"Prussia?" he called back. His voice was surprised.

"West!" I cried, looking over the wall, wishing I could just scale it and see him. But the guards had their eyes fixed on me. Letting me near the wall was one thing. Climbing over it was quite another. "West, it's you!"

He didn't say anything for a while. I thought he might have left, the final act of abandonment. But, then, "I miss you."

"I miss you too!" I said, and it was true. I missed him so much, I missed my little brother. I wasn't _fair_. This stupid wall, this god-damned wall that Russia had built. It wasn't to protect me. He wanted to seal me in for himself.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry for everything!" he said, and he meant it. Maybe I was a fool to believe him, but I wanted it to be true so badly I just accepted it without question.

"It's okay, West." I said softly, remembering to keep my voice loud enough for him to hear me. "I'm sorry too."

"It's not okay! Now you're over there and I can't… I'll get you back, Prussia."

He'd said that before. I laughed. "No more invading Europe, deal?"

He laughed back, but it sounded broken. "Deal. But I can't promise anything about Russia."

"Don't get in trouble again, West." I told him.

"I won't. America hates him too. Russia." He told me.

I thought about that. If he was working with America, I doubted he would fall into the same hole he'd been in twice before.

"Haven't you heard?" Germany said quietly. "America's not a fan of Communism. He was here, he told Russia he wanted the wall down." (16)

I can't believe America would even care about the wall. "Why? What's in it for him?"

"I don't know. He said he doesn't like it when people are forced into something they don't want." Germany said.

I looked at the wall, imagining Germany on the other side.

"He's going to tear it down, Prussia." Germany said quietly.

I wondered who would win in that fight. America versus Russia. I didn't know. But the idea of a full-out war between them scared me. Especially when I was stuck in the middle.

* * *

Dinner was always a quiet affair. All of us were in one room, one very large, very ornate room. I hadn't given much thought to Communism, since it seemed like something I couldn't control. I supposed, in essence, it was a good idea. All for one and one for all. That seemed fair, didn't it?

But Russia had twisted his own idea. I knew my people were suffering. I'd always known. I just didn't want to accept it. There was nothing I could do.

"I hear you were out by the wall today, Prussia." Russia said calmly, looking down at his dinner. I was right next to him. I was always right next to him. He liked me in reach.

"So what if I was?" I snapped back, cutting into my food with more force than necessary.

"I hear you were talking to your brother."

"What's it to you?"

"He doesn't want to help you, Prussia. He's just trying to fool you." Russia told me. "He wants you dead."

"You're a really good liar, you know that?" I said, eyes fixed on my food.

"I'm only interested in your best interests."

"If that were true, you'd do like America says and tear down the wall." I said calmly.

I'd found a nerve.

"You will not mention his name in this house." Russia hissed.

"Who? America? Because he's the only one you can't just crush into obedience?" I asked, voice rising.

"He's just interested in himself. You think he wants to help you? He's just trying to weaken me so he can take our land for himself." Russia said loudly, slamming his fork down on his plate with a sharp clang.

"Why would America bother with your land? Who wants any part of this snowy hell?" I stabbed my food with my fork and left it there, like a flag pole in the ground, minus a flag. "At least he isn't killing me from the inside-out!"

Russia paused. He hadn't been expecting this.

"You! You're a fucking lie, is what you are! You come preaching peace and love and you build a wall so we can't run from it! My people are hungry and terrified and they're trying to get someplace that isn't trying to kill them!" I stood up, slamming my hand on the table. "Your own people are dying by the truckload, and their blood is on your hands!"

Evidently, Russia was not used to outbursts. But I had nothing to lose. What else could he do to me?

"You want to leave your trust in America's hands? He abandoned you! He let you come to me and now he wants to see you back! He likes to mess with the world, and you are just a pawn to him." Russia shouted back at me. I'd never seen him show so much emotion in all the time I'd known him.

"And what are you doing?" I countered. "What makes you so different?"

"Do not compare me to that bastard!" Russia yelled. His hands were at my collar now, but I was no longer afraid of him. "He is nothing, he is a capitalist pig and he would gladly see your death if you did not join him!"

"I think you're no better." I said, and my voice fell. I almost felt sorry for Russia. His whole life people had bent under him. He'd finally found someone who pushed back. "You know what I think? I think if this comes to a war, and I think it will, he'll win."

And it was true. My idea of America might have skewed by his abandonment, but he was also the only one who had listened. He was the only one to walk away from the Treaty of Versailles, to call it unjust. And because of that, I trusted him. Maybe it didn't make sense, but did I have anyone else to trust anymore?

"If it comes to war I will make sure he goes down with me." Russia said, and he dropped me.

I caught his wording, caught the glimmer behind his eye. Russia was scared of America. He knew that, at last, here was an opponent that would sooner die than bow to him. I laughed, and the sound chilled even my blood. It wasn't my laugh. It was a dead man's laugh.

I turned and left without another word. No one stopped me.

* * *

"He won't let you get away with it." Lithuania handed me a shovel and I jammed it in the hard-packed snow.

"If he has something to say, let him say it." I threw the snow to the side with a sharp, controlled movement.

"That's the problem. I don't think he'll say it at all." Lithuania's voice was soft and his breath puffed out in front of him.

"What else can he do to me?" I asked. Another shovelful of snow. I readjusted my hands to keep them from slipping.

Lithuania shook his head. "I've met America. He's a good man, even if he's a little absent-minded and selfish. But I don't know if you can trust him with so much. He won't fight for you if it's going to hurt him."

"I know." And I did. "That's not what I'm counting on."

"Oh?"

"America was in Germany not long ago. He wants the wall down. He's challenged Russia. He's not going to back down now." I said, feeling a drop of sweat form at my hairline. I tore off my wool hat and kept digging.

Lithuania paused and then returned to the task at hand. "I don't know, Prussia. Not to sound cliché, but I don't think you should be counting your chickens before they've hatched."

I sighed and wiped my forehead off with my gloved hand. I hated sweating in the snow. "Maybe. But if all I've got to look forward to is chickens, I've got to do something to keep myself sane."

"Russia is a sore loser. Just don't dig yourself into a hole you can't get out of." Lithuania warned. I remembered that Lithuania had been under Russia's thumb for a long time now. Maybe he was used to this life, but I couldn't be. I might accept it, might accept the things Russia did to me, but I wouldn't let it be all I had left.

I looked at the scar on my wrist. "I won't die here. Not like this."

Lithuania smiled and shook his head again, as if I were a child with dreams of becoming a king. "Right now, Russia decides exactly when and how you die."

"No." I said sharply. Lithuania stopped his work to look at me. "I do."

Lithuania smiled. But he was humoring me. I suppose it's rather hard to imagine you're master of your own fate when you're shoveling someone else's sidewalks.

* * *

I went back to the wall most days. Russia hadn't stopped me from going, but that didn't mean he'd put up with another meeting. I never heard another voice on the other side of the wall, and I wondered if Russia's guards were keeping Germany away.

For a long time, I would just stare at the wall. Who was I, that something so physical, something as small as this wall, was stopping me? I would look down at my hands and I couldn't answer myself. Prussia. East Germany. Were they two sides of the same coin? Or was I forever divided, lost to Russia's dominating power?

Russia, it turned out, had not forgotten my outburst. I had hoped that he would be so shocked by it he would leave me be. It was a very laughable hope.

Russia did not torment me the way he usually did. I was used to that, it was hardly a punishment anymore.

But what else could he do? Physically, I was forever bruised and broken, from his abuse, and from daily occurrences. He liked to remind me that he held all the power here. He would blacken my eyes or bruise my ribs for a job done poorly. I walked with a permanent limp, a constant hunch.

Physically, there was nothing he could do. That didn't stop him. It never stopped him.

He brought me to the wall once. Not only that, he brought me to the Westerners' side. I hadn't been here for so long, just being there gave me hope, a sense that everything I longed for wasn't in vain.

But I wasn't here to gain hope. Instead, he brought me along to wall to where a group of Westerners were gathered, kept at bay by Russia's guards.

"You see, now? You see what your struggles do?" Russia said quietly. "My wall will not be crossed by any of your people. You will stay were you are."

He showed me the death strip. The strip of land between his wall and the Westerners, where my people died, alone and in full view of the world. A boy lay there now. He was so young, maybe eighteen. A hole had been torn in his chest. A gaping, bloody hole. He gasped around it, clinging to life even if it was futile. Russia's guards ignored him.

I pulled against Russia's hold, but it was too strong. He was always too strong. All I could think was that this was one of _mine_. And he was bleeding to death in the cold, while the Westerners watched with wide eyes. They couldn't go near him, or they'd meet a similar end.(17)

He was _dying_. One of my boys, just dying there in the snow. I was useless. Helpless as any of the others that watched in fear. I couldn't stand this. Couldn't stand seeing him there, just a cold mess. Maybe it was too late to save him. But he couldn't just die there, alone.

I stood there, useless, and I stopped pulling against Russia. He thought I was tamed, I would stay where I was.

He underestimated me. He always did. But it wasn't towards the West that I ran. It was back towards the wall I'd tried so hard to escape. It was towards my dying boy.

There was a sound of a gunshot, and a horrible pain somewhere above my hip. I managed to register that I'd been shot before I hit the ground. I was luckier than the dying Easterner boy. I was unconscious in minutes.

* * *

Russia had never told the Western guards that I was not to be shot. I felt a bizarre stab of pity for whoever it had been. I suspected he would not be treated with mercy on Russia's part.

I survived, of course. It would take more than a bullet to kill a nation, even one as weak and useless as me. In a few weeks, I was on my feet again, although for the time being I was pardoned from work. It was strange, having nothing to do in this big house. I found myself searching out Lithuania anyway, just for the companionship.

"I told you." was all he had to say in light of my recent injury.

I couldn't argue. He was right, after all. I watched him work again. Today he was cleaning the house, not that it ever seemed to really need it. I'd never seen a place with so many people that seemed so empty. I followed him uselessly, like a lost puppy. I wasn't really in the mood to be alone.

"You shouldn't be walking so much." he advised. "You're going to hurt yourself again."

I shrugged. It wasn't like it mattered. "I'm fine."

He sighed and pulled a chair out with his foot. "I'm starting dinner. Sit."

I did. He always seemed to be in charge of dinner. I wondered if anyone else ever cooked. I certainly never did, but I doubted Russia was a very big fan of German cuisine.

"You were on the West side of the wall." he observed.

I shrugged again. "On Russia's terms."

"But you were there."

I shook my head, lost. "So?"

Lithuania just smiled. He'd made some point that went over my head, and I wasn't in the mood for puzzles.

"The world is on your side, you know." Lithuania said.

"The world has never been on my side." I scoffed.

"Maybe not. But they're on America's." Lithuania corrected himself. "That's your side, isn't it?"

"What do you mean they're on America's side?" I asked, shaking my head.

Lithuania was focused on cutting something out of view from where I sat. He frowned down at it. "They're scared of Russia. They've always been scared of Russia. But America isn't. And they're not scared of America."

"Let me help." I offered, taking the knife. He pushed the cutting board toward me and I finished while he pulled a pot onto the stove. "Maybe. But I don't know what America's trying to do. I know he hates Russia, but what about us? We're all part of the Soviet Union, aren't we?"

Lithuania shook back his sleeve and glanced at the scar there. "Maybe. But, then aren't we all just bystanders here? America never blamed you for what Germany did, did he?"

I thought back. "No..I guess you have a point, he was never very interested in me but he didn't seem to think I'd done anything wrong."

Lithuania nodded. "America's a good kid. He tries."

"You believe he won't judge us for Russia's crimes?" I asked, careful not to nick my fingers. I'd never been a very good cook.

"I do." Lithuania nodded. "But he's not going to exert himself too much for us. Russia is a bitter enemy until the end, and, like it or not, we'll always be pawns to both of them."

I sighed. I knew he was right. "How can you be alright with that? You aren't some tiny nation shoved in the corner of the continent. You were pretty strong, back in the day."

He laughed. "Times have changed. You've changed."

"I guess so." I shook my head. "What happened to us?"

"Time." He shrugged. "We had our fun, didn't we? It's time to let the younger nations take over the world. We're getting old."

I laughed. "True. Last I checked Russia was older than me, though."

He laughed too. "Not me."

"Why do you put up with this? I remember you, I remember what you used to do. Why don't you stand up to him?" I asked, finishing the chopping.

He shook his head, taking the cut vegetables and pushing them into the pot. Dinner for the Soviets. There were a lot of us. A lot of food. "Like you said, that was a long time ago. You were quite the Kingdom not too long ago. You stand up to him."

"I surrendered all my power to Germany, and now he's on the other side of a wall." I sighed.

"Do you regret that?" Lithuania asked.

I had to think. "You know, I don't think I do. It's like you said, right? I had my turn. Now I'm willing to pass on the torch. And even if he's been a little unruly with it, Germany's a good guy, deep down."

"I believe you." Lithuania nodded. "It'll take a long time for the rest of the world to forget what he did. But they'll get there. I think America already has."

We laughed, and for a moment at least, I felt human. Something I hadn't felt in a long time, since before I'd seen the wall go up. Since I'd heard those words out of Germany's mouth. _You're just a nuisance!_ What lies they were! I knew, somehow, that I'd see him again.

I didn't know then, in that kitchen, that it would be an even older friend that I would see first.

* * *

"What do you mean, I can't go near the wall?" I demanded.

"Boss's orders." the man that answered me seemed almost bored. "We're not supposed to shoot you, but we can't let you near the wall. No contact with Westerners."

Frustrated, I shook his hand off me. This one of the last comforts I had. Why had Russia taken it away from me?

Of course, the answer was obvious. America was on the other side of that wall. The enemy was too close for comfort. And wasn't I just notorious for fraternizing with the enemy?

I didn't know where else to go. I wasn't going to Russia just yet. That was what he wanted, what he always wanted. I refused to give him that.

So I went south. I had more than one border, right? I didn't have to stand by one all day, right? The wall didn't stretch to the south. Evidently that wasn't an expected path of escape. It was here that I realized that Russia had slipped. He'd forgotten that I had friends from past lives.

"Prussia!" There were suddenly arms around me, pulling me close. There was a shooting pain in my side and I gasped. The hold slackened.

"Oh, Prussia, I'm sorry, I'm just…you're alive. I wasn't sure if you were alive." Hungary let go of me and I smiled at her.

"It's good to see you too."

"Everything that's happened! That's happening…I guess you're not Prussia anymore, are you? Do you go by East Germany now?"

"That's my name, but I don't use it." I was still smiling, watching her. I was just so _good_ to see her.

"Oh.." She pulled me close again, this time gently. "What happened to you? Why are you limping?"

"Ah, nothing to worry about." I dismissed the gunshot in my side easily. It wasn't something that she ought to be concerned about. I was just glad to see her.

But Hungary had never taken no for an answer. She pulled at my jacket and shirt, exposing the heavy bandages pulled tight around my chest. I tugged them away from her, covering the broken skin again.

"What happened?" she demanded, looking at me with wide eyes. "Did Russia do this?"

_Yes_. "No, just a scuffle with the guards."

"His guards." She frowned.

_Yes_. "The Wall guards." I said vaguely. "It was an accident. Russia was furious."

Not lies. Hungary looked disbelieving. "I can't believe that stupid wall. I've been letting people through to Austria but I can't keep doing it. I don't want a fight with Russia. That's America's territory."

Again with America. "When is he going to do something about him, then?" I asked, somewhat dryly.

"Oh, you haven't heard?" she asked.

"Heard what?"

"America's been fighting with Russia for years now. They're the biggest enemies I've ever seen, and I've seen England and France. No one's dealt the first blow yet but…maybe that's a good thing."

"What do you mean?"

She suddenly looked terrified. "You know the bomb America used on Japan? The nuclear explosion?"

"Yeah."

"Russia has that technology too." She confided softly. The idea sent chills down my spine. This was news to me. "They both have the bombs, lots of them. And they're pointed at each other."

I understood Russia's short temper recently, but Hungary's fear was a bit of a mystery. "Well, so they take each other out. So?"

She was shaking her head. "Prussia, don't you get it? These bombs…they aren't like what we've seen before. If they let loose at each other…They won't just destroy each other. They'll take everyone else out with them."

I found this hard to believe. "They'll destroy the world?"

She nodded seriously. "Why do you think they've held back until now? But…one slip, on either side, and all of us could be the casualties."

I still couldn't believe it, but Hungary wasn't a liar. "That's…insane."

"It's true." She said, as if detecting my disbelief. She was always good at that. "Personally? I'm rooting for America. I don't need Russia breathing down my neck next." She shivered.

We stood there, watching the steady trickle of East Germans that fled across the Hungarian border.

"I can't keep this up forever, Prussia." She said quietly. "I don't want Russia to see me as a threat. I can't help anyone then. Come across with me, you can get to West Germany through Austria."

I wanted to. How I wanted to. But I shook my head.

"I can't run away from this. I won't be free of him until that wall is down." I said quietly. It had always been the truth. I couldn't run away from myself. And this was me now, this hopeless, desolate place stuck under Russia's thumb. I couldn't be free of him until my people were.

She sighed sadly. "I suppose you're right. I'll try and help, but I don't think there's very much I can do. Just hold on, Prussia. Help will come eventually."

I just nodded. We were quiet for a long time, standing side-by-side, watching. But I couldn't stay forever. Russia was expecting me. I said my goodbyes to her, wondering if I'd ever see her again, and left.

* * *

I could feel my blood boiling. People were moving, people were acting. Something was changing, now, or very soon. I wanted to move, to fight, but for now I was trapped in Russia's house.

It seemed he'd noticed the change in me too. I was kept in the house. I was not to leave. Frustrated, I stared out the windows. I wanted to knock something over, I wanted to break down the door and storm out.

But there was no place to go.

Finally, finally, I couldn't stand it anymore. I couldn't be inside anymore. I didn't care what happened, I had to be at the wall. I didn't even know why. I just knew that was where I needed to be now.

I opened the door. All along, I'd thought there must be some lock, some catch on it. There never was. The only thing that ever stopped me was my own tamed obedience. Now I threw it wide, let it ricochet off the wall, and stormed outside. It was fall, and my jacket was light, but I didn't care.

As I marched across Russia's lawn, I heard someone behind me. I turned, expecting to see Russia, but he wasn't home. Instead, Lithuania stood in the doorway.

"Where are you going?"

"Home." The word was out of my mouth before I could stop it. But I knew, somehow, that it was true. Today, I was going home.

He stared at me for a long time. He never tried to stop me, just said "Good luck."

And he was gone.

I have never once regretted the companionship I found in Lithuania. I think I can go far enough to call him a friend. As Austria had once proven, even the harshest enemies can find comfort in each other in a hopeless situation. And Lithuania was never really my enemy.

From the moment I'd said it, I knew where I was going. I don't know what I expected, but I knew I wouldn't be coming back to this house. If I could help it, I wouldn't come here ever again. I was going to the wall. I didn't look back once as I left. There was nothing to look for.

People were gathered at the wall. They cried and shouted and there was the sound of metal on stone. Again and again and again, the sound of metal on stone. Hammers, chisels, anything that could carve away any bit of the wall. People pulled at it with their bare fingers. Today, the wall would fall.

This was what had drawn me here. People cried and screamed in joy, and the wall crumbled under the overwhelming tide of people. Holes appeared. Hands reached through, from the other side, and pulled them through. There was laughing and crying from the other side as strangers held each other, awed by what they'd finally accomplished.

I was in shock, like so many people around me. I approached the growing holes slowly, watching my people escape. The guards were gone, useless now. I was just a few steps from the other side. A hand grabbed my arm.

I knew, before I turned around, that it would be him. He wouldn't let me leave that easily.

"You." His face was inches from mine. "I told you, no one crosses my wall."

"You were wrong." I tried to shake him off. His finger crushed my arm.

"Rabbit, you are mine!" He said, and I could hear the desperation in his voice. "I will not let you leave."

I wondered if, in all the time I'd been trapped here, he'd begun to grow attached to me. His emotions were such a mystery. But I wasn't his to control anymore.

"Get off me, Russia." I said quietly. I pried his fingers from my arm. "I'm not yours anymore. I'm going home."

"You are home!" Russia cried. His fingers came away more easily than I'd thought. Maybe he had already given up. "This is your home now! You cannot run away from yourself!"

"I'm not. It's over, Russia. The wall is down." His last finger slipped away and I stepped into the rushing crowd pouring through the growing hole. "It's over."

"No!" Russia reached for me, but it was too late. "No, you are mine! They said so! This wall is for your own good, can't you see?"

But Russia's voice was lost on the other side of the wall. I was met by the hands of dozens of Westerners on the other side. They smiled at me, told me it was over, I was free. I smiled back, but it was forced. There was only one person I wanted to see now.

Finally, I found him. He was watching the crowd from its edges, scanning through it anxiously. He stood with his hands behind his back, his feet planted wide. The only movement was in his eyes, as they hovered over the mass of people.

"West!" I called through the crowd. "West!"

He saw me. His firm, orderly demeanor broke. He pushed through the crowd and pulled me close and I was crying and hugging him back and I didn't even care that the push of the crowd had torn open the healing gunshot in my side. All I could think was that I was finally, _finally_ home, I couldn't even care enough to think that once the wall fell, once the pretense of East and West Germany fell, I might not exist anymore.

Because, right now, I was home.

* * *

Germany was furious when he found all the scrapes and bruises on me. I had to remind him that it was in the past now. And, anyway, it would heal, with time.

I avoided the question for a year.

One day, months later, Lithuania appeared at our door. He told me what had happened. He showed me the gaping hole in his arm, where he'd shaved off his own scar. He'd left the Soviet Union.(18)

As for my scar, I'd burned it away. I think I liked Lithuania's method better. Much more dramatic.

He'd done it right in front of Russia. And he'd walked away. Russia was too busy, worn too thin to bother with something as small as Lithuania's betrayal.

We laughed and cried then, on the doorstep. Could it be true? Could we both be free? Russia was slowly fading into the background. It seemed America was far too much of a force to be reckoned with. When they raced against one another, America was always getting faster, and Russia just couldn't keep up. I owed America one hell of a drink.

"What are you going to do now?" I asked him.

He grinned. "Whatever I want."

We laughed again.

* * *

Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore. I was healed, physically at least. It seemed things were finally settling down. I found Germany in his office, like I had years and years ago, when I'd asked him to take me with him so I could get out of this house. Now I had no intent of ever leaving.

Just like before, I knocked, suddenly nervous. What would he say? How could I bring this up? Couldn't I just let it be?

But I couldn't stand it anymore. Germany called me in. I opened the door and looked inside. He was alone, writing something on his desk. I couldn't see what it was, and I wasn't very interested.

"Germany?"

He looked up and smiled. "What is it, Prussia?"

"I.." I stepped in and closed the door. "It's just…I've been trying to figure it out but I just..." I shook my head and stared at the floor, as if I would find courage there. "What are you going to do with me?"

There was a long pause. My heart dropped. I looked up.

Germany was staring at me. We looked at each other for a long time, neither willing to break the silence. Finally, Germany looked down again.

"I've been thinking about that."

"You're going to do it anyway, aren't you?" I asked suddenly. "You're going to kill me."

He looked up, alarmed. "What? Prussia, no. No."

"What, then?" I asked. I'd kept back this question for a year now. "What am I supposed to do? What am I? I was Prussia, then I was East Germany…What am I now, Germany?"

He looked back down at his desk and sighed. Finally, he stood up. "Like I said, I've been working on it. I don't know if you'll like it very much, it's certainly not much, but, for now, I think it's all I can do."

He handed me the paper he'd been writing on. I could see now that he'd been signing it. I scanned it quickly.

"So, Brandenburg, are you going to sign it?"

I looked up at him. He was smiling, offering me the pen he'd been using. It wasn't a country. Brandenburg was a state, but it was a damn important one, at least to me. For now, that was fine with me. (19)

I ignored the pen and threw my arms around him.

"Thanks." I mumbled into his chest.

"You deserve it." He told me, patting my back.

I decided to believe that I did.

* * *

I don't know what made me do it. I don't know when I decided to sit down and write this down. I've been busy, lately, since I've finally got something official to do around here. It seems like this is a huge waste of the free time I do have, but I think it's worth it. Somehow, I don't want to forget any of it. I stopped writing journals around the time I created the German Empire. And maybe my life really isn't worth recording.

But this is something I never want to forget. However long I might live for, another year or another three hundred years, there are parts of me I don't want lost.

This journal is almost full now. Going back over everything, reliving it all, I'm surprised that it's still so fresh. I'm surprised I can still remember it all so clearly. The good and the bad.

Do I regret any of it? Maybe. Maybe I regret giving Germany the freedom to do what he did. Maybe I regret letting Russia control me so easily. Maybe I regret that, some days, I miss him a little.

But it's all part of one story. My story. And I can't really regret anything that's brought me right here, because it's a very good place to be.

What happened between Russia and America? The Cold War they called it. The war that was never fought. I always thought that was such a funny thing to call it, but what else can you call a war with Russia?

The Soviet Union is no more, of course. Once Lithuania left the rest of them crumbled away. I laugh now to think that Russia thought he could hold them all forever. Eventually, nations will pull apart. It's only natural.

I'm in my own office now, in Germany's house. A state, it's still something, right? I'm not bitter about it. It's something. And Lithuania was right. Sometimes, you just have to pass on the torch. For now, I'm happy to be a part of Germany.

So who am I? That's a question I've asked myself a lot, it's a question I've pondered about other people. Who are we, any of the nations? Why do we exist? What's the point?

If I've learned anything since that cold morning Germany signed me away to Poland, it's that none of those questions really matter. We exist, isn't that enough? I'm me, and that's all I need to know.

Signed, The Kingdom of Prussia, The Free State of Prussia, The German Democratic Republic (East Germany), and the State of Brandenburg

P.S.

I'm still damn awesome. Don't you ever forget it.

* * *

**Footnotes**

**(1) Just a year before the end of the First World War, the Germans (and this is really, really abridged) told the Prussians to screw off and get with the times. They removed the Prussian king and turned Prussia into a republic. I'm not a hundred percent sure exactly what happened between them power-wise (previously, of course, Prussia was in control of Germany). If you know, the information is very much welcomed.**

**(2) The Treaty of Versailles, which most people have heard about, was basically a document that explained exactly how the Allies were screwing the Germans over. In many historian's opinions, it was just a bit excessive.**

**(3) 132 billion marks was what they ended up charging Germany for the war. Today, that would be about 385 billion American dollars.**

**(5) One of the demands in the Treaty of Versailles was that West Prussia would be ceded to Poland to give them access to the Baltic Sea. This also separated East Prussia from the rest of Germany. In fact, most of the territory Germany was forced to give up was actually Prussia's.**

**(6) Among the list of things I don't understand about foreign countries, the German Revolution ranks somewhere just after 'assigning genders to objects'. However, what I do know is that as an Empire, Prussia was not the best at..actually...running it. The reltionship between the Kingdom of Prussia and Germany was incredibly confusing and no one really understood it, which made things like taxes difficult. As for the German Revolution, all I know is the Germans fought the Prussians and won and Prussia became a republic (aka, no monarch). This happened the year before Germany lost the war. Bad timing, since that would mean Prussia would be divided up and handed off to other countries as punishment to Germany.**

**(7) Yup. One of the reasons they joined Germany was because they wanted to see the great Roman Empire rise again. Sadly, they surrendered before that could happen.**

**(8) Sadly, the German political system is another one of those things I simply cannot grasp to save my own life. The position of Chancellor (if that was, in fact, the first office Hitler held, I'm not positive) is... a position in the German government that Hitler held. Probably. Again, any information would be lovely. (How do I not know this...? Blame Standardized Testing.)**

**(9) The first real invasion Germany did as part of WWII was the invasion of Poland. He'd already broken the Treaty but England and France were just really hoping he'd stop and be satisfied (aka, they were terrified of another war).**

**(10) French for Prussia.**

**(11) Quite obviously, Hitler. And yes, for the tiny fragment of you that don't know, Hitler was as Austrian as they get. Which is probably why he decided that Austria was exactly the same thing as Germany (which is sort of BS, but hey, he said things that made less sense).**

**(12) Hammer and sickle, the sign of communism. And the Soviet Union.**

**(13) And that's as close as you're getting to a sex scene. But yes, to eliminate doubt, Russia did rape him.(14) Sorry, there's multiple reasons for it, but the most important is I write a crap sex scene. **

**(14) In fact, many Prussians were raped by the invading Soviets. Soviet soldiers (Russians especially) had developed quite the reputation for raping and murdering not only the peoples they were invading, but their own as well. Even the Germans, who were well feared by most of the Allies, were absolutely terrified of the Russians soldiers. So, in this sense of Ru/Pru, it's historically accurate. Yes this is a footnote to a footnote. Don't let it blow your mind too much.**

**(15) Sadly, not true. Although the Germans fought on the Prussian front until the end of the war, most of it was done from the other side (that is, the Prussian side). And, as we know, the Germans didn't win the war...**

**(16) TEAR DOWN THIS WALL. Mr. Ronald Reagan's challenge to Gorbachev, the leader of the Soviet Union. Yes, the United States of America is quite adamant about getting its way. And when it wants a wall to go away, it makes sure everyone knows that. Also, can I question the morality of people who claim communism is about love and peace and then have to build a wall to keep people from running away?**

**(17) Ever hear of Peter Fechter? The most notorious person to die on the death strip. An eighteen year old boy who died in plain view of all the Westerners and their media. It was not good press for the Soviets. This isn't him, since he died a while before the "Tear down this wall" speach, but the point is the same.**

**(18) It's true. Lithuania was the first to leave the Soviet Union. For that feat, I will forever respect the Lithuanians.**

**(19) Yes, it's true, somehow Brandenburg is listed as the last encarnation of Prussia. I'm not a hundred perecent sure why. I'm pretty sure it was the capital of Prussia, or something like it. Anyway, the point is, arguably, Brandenburg is Prussia. Shut up. What's YOUR theory about why he's still alive then?**

**That's what I thought.**

* * *

**Oh my god. My baby. It's finally finished. This right here, this is weeks and weeks of my life. All the footnotes, all the research, all the scrapped sections and bs-ed conversations…IT'S ALL FINISHED.**

**Sure, to you it's just a story, but to me it's nearly twenty-thousand words of BLOOD AND TEARS.**

**Okay rant done. Go ahead and tell me all the little things I got wrong now.**


End file.
